A Good Man
by Because-I-love-to-write
Summary: She looked at him like she knew him; like she saw the hurt he had been forcing down and bottling up for the last year. "You're a good man," she said, lifting her hand up gently and placing it on his shoulder. Her eyes hardened a bit in sheer determination and her voice held the conviction he sorely lacked. "Stay one." Five-Shot Eventual Bond/OC
1. Chapter 1

It was a cut and dry mission. There was a sex trader who had information Bond needed, and thus came the raid. It would have its casualties he knew, but it never really bothered him much anymore. Nothing bothered him much anymore. M had insisted that he take back-up with him, saying they could kill two birds with one stone: get the information they needed and shut down a human trafficking ring. The thought was that of an idealist, saving people while hunting to save more. It bothered Bond quite more than he wanted to admit, the fact that the saving of women sold into slavery was inconsequential in his eyes. Perhaps his resent brush with death had not done as much good as M was hoping for. Vesper had been cold for nearly a year and a half now, after Quantum he'd gotten some closure, but no one truly found solace in a situation like his.

That morning he had found himself contently cleaning his favorite gun, and a twisted smile formed on his face: target practice.

That's what this raid really was for him. Putting more bodies and nameless faces on his high score, he hadn't had a good gun fight in a while; M had him on surveillance and undercover work mostly these days. The sheer violence was sorely missed, and this was a large compound, lots of warm bodies to make cold.

As he stood behind the firing line, waiting for the signal, his mind drifted to how he'd become such a monster. He was no novice in that regard, he knew himself and he knew a monster when he saw one. He'd killed a few in his day, would most likely kill more. More recently he had fought a battle with one every day, it began every morning, when his eyes met the reflection of the monster in his bathroom mirror. Anger boiled in him- unchecked rage that made his shoulders and hands shake.

She had done this to him. She had turned him into everything he had once fought against. She betrayed him and made him into a blind fool.

Perhaps that's why he had no joy over freeing these women. They were all the same- they took what they needed and left the shell of a good man behind. He never counted himself as a "good man" but he was sure as hell better before her than after her.

He heard the whistle, the signal the raid was about to begin. His brain diverted from his past and set forward to the iron clad door in the back of the compound. The mission came first, nothing else matter, no one else mattered. The door was quickly disposed of and the some odd twenty men rushed in with fervor, killing as they went. There were express instructions to leave the ring leader alive, or at least until 007 extracted the information he needed.

Gun out, eyes and ears open, the MI6 agent swiftly worked his way around the building. His bullets shot true every time as he mentally counted the number of bodies that hit the ground. Blood sprayed over walls and the gurgling of blood chocked death echoed in his ears. Briefly the question of whether he would be able to sleep tonight fluttered cross his mind, and in that moment he couldn't decide which to be worse: if he could or if he couldn't.

People scrambled in every direction, screams of men and women alike clouded the air and made it nearly impossible to focus clearly. Door by door he cleared the compound, no sign of his target anywhere.

As he came across one of the last hallways he heard a distinct sound emanating from just around the corner. A dull thud resounded over and over again accompanied with the incoherent rambling of a woman.

"Hold on!"

"Olive I think someone is coming!" a distinctively British voice followed by that of heavy Russian were discernible in the chaos.

"We can't leave them! We don't know whose here!"

"We have to go Olivi…" a shot interrupted the conversation and Bond took cover, leaning heavily on the wall, slowly turning his head to peer around the edge of the wall.

"Figures you would be the last one standing. Tell me, should I call my men to take care of the others? Attachments my dear, they pay a hefty price," the gritty voice belonged to that of Reginold Rominof, just the man Bond was looking for. The old Russian raised his hand, gun firmly grasped there, and looked with eyes of fire at the brunette who stood guard in front of a heavily fortified door.

"You gave me much more trouble than you were worth whore," A shot rang out. A body crumpled to the floor. It surprised both the woman and the agent when it was realized Rominof was lying cold on the cemented ground.

The brunette stood in shock and looked at the ground in horror. Two bodies lay motionless, that of the Rominof and of a young blond, no more than eighteen if he had to guess. Bond cleared the hallway, checking the man's pulse and cursed when he found none. The mission was blown, by his hand none the less. He had lectured and lectured those going in with him that no matter the situation; no one was to put the Russian down until he was thoroughly questioned. And yet, he lay dead and useless on the ground. Emotionless blue eyes met startled and fearful brown.

She was young, much too young to be in the middle of this, and it was at that moment Bond realized he had instinctively put Rominof down to save her life. The sigh was one of unchecked anger and irritation. She didn't move, simply started back at him with a listless expression.

"Help them. Please," her voice had lost all courage and strength it held only moments before, but her determination was steady. Her eyes diverted back to the door with a dirty window showing a mass of distinctively female bodies huddled together.

"Wait here," with those two words; Bond took off in the direction of the main hall. He knew someone would have something useful to open the door, and if he was honest with himself, he was going to be the one to do it. He had killed his single most promising lead to save that woman, and he'd be damned if it was a sacrifice in vain. Locating one of the men who carried the supplies, he procured a small and centralized pipe bomb. The device would easily slice through the rusted door. The walk wasn't a long one, and Bond made little effort to hurry. Most of the building had been cleared, and it was obvious that most of the men had been detained or put down; nothing but a couple fleeing stragglers. Now it was just the process of clean up.

Just as it was not ten minutes ago distinctive sounds were clear from the hallway in front of him but these sounded much more violent. A fist connecting with flesh and a female cry in response made Bond pick up speed, securing the bomb in a pocket of his cargo pants, he came around gun up just as the blood began to flow. Two shots, one to the heart and one to the head dealt with the mercenary efficiently.

A curse escaped the agent however when he spotted the very obvious protruding of a knife from the British woman. She swayed dangerously and Bond leapt forward to catch her. He lowered her gently to the ground, blood seeping through his fingers as he applied pressure to the newly acquired wound. Another of the raid teem rounded the corner and Bond shouted out orders for them to get a team together, call an ambulance and to open the 'god damn door.' His eyes then returned to the pure chocolate brown pools he had been trying to keep focused.

"Get them out," it was weak, an imploring tone that had the damaged man above her softening his gaze.

"We will. But you need to stay awake," he responded, also lowering his tone, trying to coax her into staying focused on him. She smiled softly at him, and when their eyes met again, he felt the very unique feeling of being seen. She looked at him like she knew him; like she saw the hurt he had been forcing down and bottling up for the last year.

"You're a good man," she said, lifting her hand up gently and placing it on his shoulder. Her eyes hardened a bit in sheer determination and her voice held the conviction he sorely lacked.

"Stay one."

**So much inspiration from the great series by **_**hybridbpv**_**; Check out what amazing stuff is happening over there too.**** This will be a short comprising of one-shot type thingies! More to come and much more character development promise! I aim to escape Mary-Sues but Lord knows I might fail. R'nR**


	2. Chapter 2

He hated hospitals. Nothing good ever came out of places that held white walls and dying people. He remembered when his parents had been here after their accident. He sat in a small plastic chair that smelled like latex for hours, waiting to hear any news about them. But when some came, he never wished he could be waiting in the chair again, with some hope. He remembered the faces of the doctors and nurses that came out to check on him, and eventually tell him that he was now orphaned.

But no matter his predisposition for the location, he sat in silence on a small plastic chair awaiting news. Ram rod straight his eyes remained focused ahead unchanging and unemotional while his focus was internal in nature.

"_You're a good man… Stay one." _It replayed over and over again in his head.

She didn't know him, she couldn't have known the things he's done, or else she would have kept her mouth closed. But by a simple look she said six words that he couldn't drag himself away from.

"…A good man," he mumbled to himself. No one had ever called him a good man. M had implied it on occasion, saying that he was only still on the right side of the game because of his character. He always brushed it off, knowing the stains that his soul had kept him barely human, let alone a human with character.

"Sir," a voice carried over and snapped Bond out of his thoughts as he rose to his feet.

"Doctor," he replied pensively, attempting to read the man's face for information. "Is she going to be alright?"

The older man sighed, and silently indicated for the agent to take a seat, while he himself took the one next to his.

"She sustained major injuries to her chest and spine. There was a large hematoma in her brain, and we have to wait and see how damaged the swollen areas are after the swelling has gone down. She's not out of the woods yet, we'll need to keep her here a while for observation, but she is estimated to wake up in a week or so." There was moment of silence as the younger man processed all the information given so rapidly. He knew the extent of her injuries was severe, but he was hoping to get information out of her before then. She was useless to his case now. He sighed and put his head in his hands, rubbing them over his haggard face before looking back up and offering a small smile and nod to the doctor.

"I must go, other patience to attend to. Ask a nurse if you have any questions." Bond nodded absently as the practitioner left. Pulling out his phone, he quickly dialed and put the device up to his ear.

"M, she won't be of any use for a while. How's it going with the others?" he rose to leave, heading towards the door when a nurse stopped him gently. "M, hold on a minute," he said rather annoyed, "Yes?"

The portly dark skinned woman looked abashedly at him, and tumbled over her words. "Do… Do you know who… uh… who her next of ki… kin is?" she turned a rather bright shade of pink after she finally finished, and Bond simply shook his head and she scrambled away.

"Anyway, the others, are they talking?" but even as M replied yes, and began to fill him in, Bond paused before he exited the door. He felt a tug at his gut and he knew it as the long lost feeling of guilt. What did he have to be guilty for? He was doing his damn job, she was lucky to be alive! But he knew that wouldn't work, not tonight anyway.

He found himself sighing again, and shaking his head, he turned around letting the door fall shut. As this internal debate was going on, M continued to tell him of the leads she had been getting together.

"We need you here as soon as possible Bond. Have you reached your car?" she asked in a clipped tone.

"No. Can you look up this woman's papers if I get you a finger print?" his tone matched hers, and there was silence for a beat. When she responded, her voice held a gentle note.

"Yes. Now be quick about it. We don't have all day 007," the call ended and Bond smiled.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

"Olivia Grayson is the name," M didn't even look up from the folder on her desk when he entered. "Her family located, though they've moved to the Americas for some god forsaken reason. We have yet to inform them pending the circumstances. Satisfied?" she finally turned her eyes to her subordinate. He casually poured himself a drink, but M knew better. She could see the rigidity in his posture and mechanical movements. He was worried. The older woman smiled gently; maybe this is exactly what he needed: a little bird to nurse back to health.

"How long had she been in the ring?"

"Missing for eight months, they had her funeral two weeks ago Sunday," she sat herself in her leather chair and took the drink he offered, but put it off to the side absentmindedly. She watched as he took a seat himself and nodded slowly. Taking a tentative sip, M's eyes never left his form. The silence was prolonged, and thankfully broken by Q's sudden appearance.

"Ma'am, we have the information you wanted…" he took a pause as he noticed the awkward air the two had going. M dismissed it with a wave and stuck her hand out purposefully. Placing the folder in her hands, she began to debrief her agent like nothing had happened.

XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx

Bond was gone and back in eight days. He always had a track record for doing things fast. When he arrived back at headquarters, his phone had just vibrated, and he took it out answering smoothly.

"Bond," he hadn't bothered checking the caller id, very few people had his number after all. So he was rather surprised when it was a voice he didn't recognize.

"Mr. Bond? I'm Elaina from the hospital, you asked we keep you informed of Olivia Grayson's progress yes?" her voice was hesitant, curious and hoping. She sounded as if she _wanted_ him to want to know. He was being paranoid he knew, but he had every right to be. He was a spy after all, and no one became a spy by being absent minded, a still living spy that is.

"Yes, I inquired of her health, why?" he realized his voice had dipped below his normal range, and found it to be for the oddest of reasons. His mind began to fly through scenarios. Had she been tracked down? Did someone hurt her? Did she not survive the surgeries they had her going through? Was she dead?

"She's awake sir, responsive to treatment, and wondering why she is unable to contact family sir. I told her you would most likely know why. Could you find time to speak with her?" so that's why the nurse wanted him to want to see her. Her voice had a bite in it, like he was the reason Olivia could not contact family. He felt himself rather annoyed with her; an emotion much more common as of late.

"Yes, tell her I have some things to take care of, but that I will be with her shortly," before the audacious woman could respond, he shut his phone with a snap.

**They will meet next chapter promise! And she won't have a knife in her. Less of damper on the conversation I'd guess. R'nR! **

**Again, so much inspiration from the great series by **_**hybridbpv**_**; Check out what amazing stuff is happening over there too!**


	3. Chapter 3

He was pacing. He never paced. It was unattractive, and it showed anxiety, it showed weakness. But no matter his feelings on the subject matter, he was pacing. Like a mad man. He was back, he had done more paper work than he ever had in his life, and he had no other excuse. He didn't want to see her, he had no reason to want to see her, or a reason to see her _at all_ for that matter. Sure he saved her life, but he had saved countless people's lives in the past, and he never ran back to shake hands with them. Besides that nurse, that damn nurse, he had no ties. She saw his face for five seconds before she passed out from blood loss; they weren't exactly connected for life.

It all came back to her one little sentence. A sentence he couldn't get out of his brain.

"_You're a good man,"_ it really shouldn't have been such a brain teaser. He saved her life from a sex trade king pen, of course he was going to appear good in her eyes, he looked like Mother Teresa compared to whom had previously been keeping her company.

Bond rubbed his hand violently over his face dueling noting he needed a shave, and ceased his pacing. It was then that he turned to look at the clock hanging mockingly on the wall. He had informed the persistent little nurse he'd swing by around five.

It was four-twenty.

Resolve, shaky as it was, began to course through his veins. She was just one woman, she couldn't possibly know him, and she couldn't possibly have any inkling to his inner thoughts and emotions. That was ridiculous even to his own ears.

Decidedly, the Englishman snatched his keys from their spot on the desk, grabbed his coat, and headed towards the door. He almost made it without incident too, when a very familiar lady spotted him.

"What in heaven's name have you been doing here?" her voice held contempt as she looked up from the file in her hands.

"Paper work ma'am" it was simple and straight forward enough.

"Paper work?" her eyebrows crinkled in expressive confusion, "Bond you haven't so much as plucked a paperclip from your desk since you started at this agency," she had stopped walking altogether, and lowered the files in her hand to her side. Her full attention was on her double-O at the moment. And that didn't seem to be changing anytime soon.

"I must be maturing. Your dream come true I believe ma'am," his light tone contradicted his glaring eyes.

"Yes, having an agent that actually follows orders has always been a dream of mine," her sarcasm was dry and unyielding.

"If that's all…"

"Just one question 007; have you been to see her yet?" there was very little question about whom they were discussing.

"On my way there presently ma'am" he inwardly rolled his eyes heavenward.

"Good. Play nice Bond, or I'll have you killed." With that last statement, M left him alone hurrying down the hallway.

.,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.

When he reached the parking structure, his emotions had all but been packed away. He had little intention of striking up a friendship with the woman; he simply wanted to see if she was all right. His car made the affirmative beep that it was indeed locked, and he pocketed the keys swiftly. Walking through the double doors, he looked around to the elevators. On the ride up he found himself rehearsing what he was going to say, what he should expect.

He had vivid images of her in his mind. Scenarios of what her beliefs and personality were flew by him a mile a minute.

She would be one of those naturalistic people. She would believe that all people are essentially good and that people only did bad things because of the government poising the water. She would thank him, informing him that the hideous quilt he saw in the corner was knit for him, and it was symbol of peace and serenity.

She would be one of those annoying people. Her voice would be high and nasally now that she wasn't on the verge of bleeding to death. She would stare at him with big brown eyes and attempt to further their connection by giving personal information and gushing about his saving of her. She would be constantly touching her hair afraid that it looked unkempt and messy from bed rest. She would beg him to stay the night and keep her safe.

She would be one of those damaged people. Her eye contact would be brief and far between. She would curl up when he approached, flinch if he touched her. Her voice would be dry and patchy and he would feel a monster when her eyes fell on him and he saw fright and contempt.

The last one scared him more than he would admit. He wasn't entirely sure if his fragile psyche could handle such a prominent hit. Everything he believed about himself, every negative thought would be confirmed the moment he opened that door.

The ding of the elevator broke him out of his thoughts, and he continued on down the hallway.

"Awe, finally here I see sir. She is in room 37B, down the hall to your left," the nurse gave him a warning eye and turned back to her work. Slight surprise broke out over the agents face. He had expected much more pomp and circumstance than that. Recovering quickly, he strode down the hall, easily locating the door, and he raised his hand to knock.

He hesitated, fist hanging in midair, and he began to rethink this idea. Just as he was turning his head to see if he could sneak past the front desk, a crash refocused him.

Bypassing the knock, he grabbed hold of the handle and pushed open the door in a flash.

"For the love of all that is holy… I swear if… IF YOU LEAVE THAT BLOODY CORD THERE AGAIN FRANK…" brown eyes turned finally to rest on blue, and her browns widened slightly. "You're not Frank."

"No, I'm not" his hand was still on the doorknob, his stance rigid as he took her in. She looked pale and malnourished, her brown hair had regained some of its shine though, and her eyes were much livelier than he had thought originally. Currently, she was hanging onto a portable I.V. stand, leaning much of her weight on it, breathing a little to ragged to be normal. Her gown falling off one shoulder, and frazzled hair made her look positively mad, not to mention some residual anger in her face.

"I apologize, Frank, the afternoon nurse, seems to forget that I take walks every evening, and leaves the damned I.V. cord a mess, just waiting to trip me," she said as she straightened herself, and stood a bit taller.

"Sounds rather dangerous," his voice was steel and he strode forward as she seemed to list a bit to the side.

"Thank you, but I am fine. Really," her voice was now pleasant, gentle, like he was the one attached to an I.V. He stepped back to his position in the doorway.

There was a lapse in conversation, as the woman looked a cross between expectant and calculating.

"May I ask what you're doing here? Not to sound rude, but you are the last person I ever expected to see," her tone was light, curiously shining through almost innocently. Bond smiled a small smile as she did not give him a peace blanket, or flirt with big eyes, or look at him like he feared. She did nothing he had thought thus far. It was a good sign.

"I came to see how you were doing," they were all mild conversational statements that he had made thus far and he knew she knew it.

"You check up on all the people you save, or just the ones you curse at?" he felt alarmed for a moment as he recalled the colorful language he used when he had been trying to revive her. He then saw her upturned lips, and he smiled a small smirk as well. "I was going for a stroll, such beautiful things to see around here, don't want to miss them," her sarcasm was dry Bond noted. He had not many women with such a sense of humor, it intrigued him. "You're welcome to join, though I can't promise the lions will be out today, they seem to vanish whenever I'm around," she hobbled out of the room, keeping a firm hand on her I.V. pole, the wheels making a slight sound as they rolled.

"Must be afraid of you," he held the door open for her, as he was still in the doorway, he smiled as she rolled her eyes slightly.

"Well, when you look like this, there have to be some perks," she threw over her shoulder as Bond closed the door behind her and walked to catch up.

They started out at a slow pace, the silence between them not quite awkward, but not particularly comfortable either. She was the first to break the silence, her tone conversational.

"You know, if you have other things to do, which I presume you do, you don't need to feel obligated to…"

"I'm not"

A moment passed.

"I didn't come out of obligation," his tone had softened slightly.

"Well okay then," she stopped her slow trek and turned to face him. "Olivia Grayson," she stuck her hand out, and he looked down at it for a moment. He had two options: take her hand and respond with the truth, or take her hand a lie. He could give her a false name, have a pleasant conversation, and be on his way. They would never meet again, (he would make sure of that) and she would go on with her life. They wouldn't become friends, she wouldn't be in danger, and he would be himself again. Alone, but keeping others safe. There would be no risk of hurt, or betrayal. She wouldn't have the opportunity to look at him with those big, seemingly knowing, brown eyes and destroy the last bit of sanity he had left. He took a moment before taking her hand and responding.

"It's Bond. James Bond,"

**And so they meet! Hope this chapter was entertaining dears. I will continue to explore this I believe, maybe make it a story instead of a four-shot, we'll see :) R'Nr!**

**For ****Zenyatta1****9: it has come to my attention "Alright" is not a word. It is indeed "all right" two different words; just some food for proverbial thought my good people. And me, I won't talk about the fact I wrote it the incorrect way last chapter. **

**Again, so much inspiration from the great series by **_**hybridbpv**_**; Check out what amazing stuff is happening over there too!**


End file.
